Best 1141 quotes in «historical quotes» category

It's time we woke up, women are pretty much people, seems to me. I know they dress like fools- but who´s to blame for that? We invent all those idiotic hats of theirs, and design their crazy fashions, and, what's more, if a woman is courageous enough to wear common-sense clothes -and shoes- which of us wants to dance with her? Yes, we blame them for gratifying us, but are we willing to let our wives work? We are not. It hurts our pride, that's all. We are always criticizing them for doing mercenary marriages, but what do we call a girl who marries a chump with no money? Just a poor fool, that's all. And they know it. As for Mother Eve- I wasn't there and I can't deny the story, but I will say this. If she brought evil into the world, we men have had the loin's share of keeping it going ever since- how about that?

It takes a village to raise a child, they say, and it takes a community to raise a genius, no matter how singular the individual.

It takes Passion to bring a Vision to Life.

It was regarded as almost outside the proper interest of an analyst to give systematic attention to a person's real experiences.

I've fallen in love with you. I love you even now when you sit before me with the eyes of a wolf. So take pity upon the fool I have become. I forgot it was only a bargain between us.

I've deprived my family in order to buy books. No doubt there is a special punishment in hell for such self-indulgence. Perhaps I shall be struck with blindness among the rarest known to men.

I want to talk to you. I want to listen to you. I want to walk with you and, yes, I want you in my bed. That's what I want today. That's what I'll want in a hundred years. If you promise to be my wife forever, I will pledge myself to your happiness.

I was asked the other day in which era I would choose to live. As a historical novelist, it comes up sometimes. As a woman I'd have to say I'd like to live in the future - I want to see where these centuries of change are leading us.

I was torn apart. But you, my knight, you found all the pieces and put me back together.

I was young--so young--naive, isolated in a small world of safety and comfort too soon shattered by a phone call.

I win the battles with the dreams of my soldiers," he would say. The content of those dreams was myriad, and evolved over time...

Lord Randall barreled inside, brandishing his cane in Drew's face. "You beggarly knave, I was told this marriage was in name only! Who gave you permission to consummate the vows?" "Theodore Hopkin, governor of this colony, representative of the kind, and it's going to cost you plenty, for that daughter of yours is nothing but trouble. What in the blazes were you thinking to allow her an education?" Drew bit back his smile at the man's shocked expression. Nothing like landing the first punch. Lord Randall furrowed his bushy gray brows. "I knew not about her education until it was too late." Drew straightened the cuffs of his shirt. "Well, be prepared to pay dearly for it. No man should have to suffer through what I do with the constant spouting of the most addlepated word puzzles you could imagine." ----------------------------------------- "I require fifteen thousand pounds." Lord Randall spewed ale across the floor. "What! Surely drink has tickled your poor brain. You're a FARMER, you impudent rascal. I'll give you five thousand." Drew plopped his drink onto the table at his side, its contents sloshing over the rim. A satisfied smile broke across his face. "Excellent." He stood. "When will you take her back to England with you? Today? Tomorrow?" The old man's red-rimmed eyes widened. "I cannot take her back. Why, she's already birthed a child!" Drew shrugged. "Fifteen thousand or I send her AND the babe back, with or without you.

Listening to him tell the story now, it was clear to Adam that Glendower was more than a historical figure to Gansey. He was everything Gansey wished he could be: wise and brave, sure of his path, touched by the supernatural, respected by all, survived by his legacy.

Look. Isn't he beautiful?" Drew's expression softened. "Ah, Nellie. He's bald, pink, and has no teeth. What's so beautiful about that?" Nellie's laugh tinkled out like musical chimes while she covered the babe back up.

Lord help the girl he set those eyes on for good. His boyish vulnerability was a weapon, powerful and disarming.

Mechanically I carried on across the Irish Sea, noticing with a jaundiced eye that it had suddenly lost the sinister threat of no-man's-land and was transformed into a placid highway where ferry-steamers would soon chug peacefully over the unmarked graves of gallant seamen.

Love should never be a game.

Marriage, after all, is only a little detail in life.

Love was something he had banished from his life years ago out of necessity, but she made him yearn to be loved.

Lucas,” she started again. “You may release me now.” “And if I refuse?” “Then we shall be found in short order in a position most scandalous by my servants.” “And we do not want that to happen?” This time, it was a question, not a statement. Pippa wanted nothing less than to be released. “Surely, the wisest decision would be that.” “Are you a wise woman, Pippa?” he asked, his breath fanning her face. “Because, I assure you, at this very moment, I do not feel like a wise man.

Many years ago there lived a man called Laurids Madsen who went up to heaven and came down again thanks to his boots.

Men love those creatures that need to be taken care of. To be with a strong and wise woman is obliging. If you want to tame a lioness you need to become a lion, not a goat. A doe is easier to keep. You give her a little grass, a little milk, and she is tamed. Who do you think a man would choose?

Never be a good prisoner. Not unless you want to collude in your own imprisonment.

Mother was like this sometimes. Conversations became riddles with traps in them, and your answers had consequences.

Mr. Yeats makes great poetry out of what he calls his unhappiness about me, and he is happy in that. - Maud Gonne

My father says you're to steal me away. Is that true?" Her lovely blue eyes flashed with mischief. "Your father said that?" Rubbing the back of his neck, Declan met her eyes. "And what did you say about it?" She dropped her bold gaze. "I told him that nothing so exciting ever happens around here.

My very core clenches and spasms, my hips with a mind of their own, lurch. It is as if I no longer have control of any part of my body. ‘Ugh,’ I continue to groan in relief. And then, slowly, the rush is over and I am able to part my eyelids again. David is still looking at my face, a light sheen of sweat on his brow indicates that his task was not without effort. Finding his gaze too forthright in the current circumstances, my eyes move to the arm that still dwells beneath my skirts and the hand that clings viciously to his sleeve. My hand.

My angel of mercy.” The gut-wrenching words stabbed Masie in the chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d been called that. She looked down, horrified by what she saw. He was lying in a pool of blood, his hand out-stretched. “My angel,” he wheezed as he struggled to breathe. He was a warrior, strong and fearless. She bent down and whispered softly in his ear, “Close yer eyes and I’ll end yer pain.” She paused just before her teeth sank into his flesh. Something within his essence held her back. He had to live.

No Big Power in all history ever thought of itself as an aggressor. That is still true today.

Oh, they'll never believe a woman could solve such puzzles. They'll just assume I'm humoring you by editing it myself and allowing you to put your name to it." She raised her eyebrows. "But you wouldn't be." He humphed. "They'll never hear me admit it." "I will," she said, a smile curving her lips. He shrugged. "They'll believe me, not you.

Now, tomorrow, and always.

Oh, it was 1775.” “What?” “1775. The Battle of Bunker Hill.” “Oh.” I laughed. “We learned about it the day we met,” he added. “Another red-letter day in history.

On a wall of her burial chamber, Ramesses summed up his love for her as such: "My love is unique and none can rival her ... Just by passing, she has stolen away my heart.

Novel: A small tale, generally of love.

Once upon a time, there was a civilization in the eastern side of the world. It was one of the most advanced civilizations on the planet that existed during that time. This civilization was the glorious Indus valley civilization. No, I am not talking about India. I am talking about the land of greatness that got lost in time. Today, in the same geographical location of that great civilization, we have a piece of earth, which is known as “India”. But do not mistake it to be the same glorious land that existed thousands of years ago, along with other magnificent civilizations, such as the Greeks, the Mayans, the Egyptians, the Babylonians etc.

Paying twenty-five dollars for me was your mistake, ma’am. I’m not worth more than fifteen.

Only in dreams and death can perfection be had. Life is broken and weary.

Ridley nodded. 'She told me I couldn't ever tell General Harding or anybody else. Told me I wouldn't be safe.' 'Safe?' Uncle Bob stopped rocking and took the pipe from between his teeth. 'She started in talkin' 'bout you bein' safe, sir?' Ridley nodded again, and that's when Uncle Bob grinned. 'Well, shoot . . . you ain't lost her yet, sir. Not altogether, anyhow. Any female goes to talkin' 'bout you bein' safe . . . hmmph. There still be somethin' left in her heart for ya.

Percy, you are dismissed from my service." "Me? Why, my lord?" "Why? Because, Percy, far from being a fit consort for a prince of the realm, you would bore the leggings off a village idiot. You ride a horse rather less well than another horse would. Your brain would make a grain of sand look large and ungainly, and the part of you that can't be mentioned, I am reliably informed by women around the court, wouldn't be worth mentioning even if it could be. If you put on a floppy hat and a funny codpiece, you might just get by as a fool, but since you wouldn't know a joke if it got up and gave you a haircut, I doubt it. That's why you're dismissed." "Oh, I see." "And as for you, Baldrick..." "Yes." "You're out, too.

Poetry arises from the desire to get beyond the finite and the historical—the human world of violence and difference—and to reach the transcendent or divine. You're moved to write a poem, you feel called upon to sing, because of that transcendent impulse. But as soon as you move from that impulse to the actual poem, the song of the infinite is compromised by the finitude of its terms.

Raoul felt suddenly impatient. 'Heart of a man, if the Lady Elfrida will trust herself to me I will have her in spite of every customary usage!' 'There spoke the Norman,' Edgar said softly. 'Marauding, grasping, marking his prey!

Resting my head on the high-backed chair, I silently marvel at emotion so strong it can quite literally chase away all reason and good sense. It is something I have never experienced. I pity Frances for being victim to such devastating passions. But, if I am honest, a small part of me envies her, for she possesses something that I should: desire for my husband. Moreover, she knows what it is to feel alive.

Sarah shifted on the bench. I worried she was winding up to say something, that Sky would start humming now, that the fright spring-coiled inside me would break loose. Then I remembered the widow dress I was wearing. I made a sound with my lips like I was trying to give him an answer, but choking on the words, seized by my grief, and I didn't have to pretend that much. I felt sorrow for my life, for what I'd lived and seen and known, for what was lost to me, and the weeping turned real.

Rooks have clustered on either side of the long road. It is as if they line a grand parade route for our passage. Their black feathers are stark as soot against the white road and the snow. They stab at the ground with their strange bare bills and gray unfeathered faces. The birds are like rough-edged black stones on a string around this stripped cold neck of road. The old books tell us rooks bring the virtuous dead to heaven’s gate.

Roman soldiers used to place a sprig of rosemary behind their ears before going into battle to sharpen their reflexes.

Schism in the soul, schism in the body social, will not be resolved by any scheme to return to the good old days (archaism), or by programs guaranteed to render an ideal projected future (futurism), or even by the most realistic, hardheaded work to weld together again the deteriorating elements [of civilization]. Only birth can conquer death―the birth, not of the old thing again, but of something new.

She ran. Deeper, deeper into the mysterious Broceliande forest...

Seth shrugged. "He's already had his funeral pyre" He glanced towards "I reckon the Devil himself was there to welcome Daniel home. " He shuddered, "Course he may prove to be too mean for the devil himself.

She didn't think she could be a Christian if perfection was required.

Shukhov stared at the ceiling and said nothing. He no longer knew whether he wanted to be free or not...it had gradually dawned on him that people like himself were not allowed to go home but were packed off into exile. And there was no knowing where the living was easier – here or there. The one thing he might want to ask God for was to let him go home. But they wouldn't let him go home.